


D-Death on T-Two Legs

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Stuttering, stutter, stutterer!roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: “What do you m..m..m…m-ean we don’t have a choice? We could’ve hired a jail warden if we wanted to be p…p…p-unished! That’s r..r.. stupid, Fred! Stupid!” Roger burst out, arms flailing as he yelled. Most times when frustrated, he tried to stay as quiet as possible, knowing his stutter would make him look and sound like a fool, but he wasn’t about to be treated like a music making machine for anyone.





	D-Death on T-Two Legs

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: roger is self conscious about having a stutter and the more frustrated he gets with it, the worst his stutter is to the point where he sometimes just shut down if he can’t manage to get the words out; it’s hard but over the years the band has learnt how to comfort him and to gradually adapt to his needs

“And I’ll need b..b..b-etter skins if they expect me to drum s…s-ix days in a row,” Roger said as he folded his arms with a huff, clearly pissed off at management. Sure, they were an up and coming band. Yes, they needed as much exposure as possible. But what their manager had just tossed at them seemed more like a punishment than an opportunity. 

Freddie frowned, shaking his head as he looked at their schedule, a hand rubbing on his neck as he feared for the safety of his vocal chords. “It’s not pretty lads, but there’s really no choice, is there?” he said, hesitation in his voice.

Brian and John just mumbled, not really any room for complaining for them, as they exerted the least amount of energy during gigs. Roger on the other hand wouldn’t go down to easily, not wanting to think about what six days of drumming would do to his arms.

“What do you m..m..m…m-ean we don’t have a choice? We could’ve hired a jail warden if we wanted to be p…p…p-unished! That’s r..r.. stupid, Fred! Stupid!” Roger burst out, arms flailing as he yelled. Most times when frustrated, he tried to stay as quiet as possible, knowing his stutter would make him look and sound like a fool, but he wasn’t about to be treated like a music making machine for anyone. 

Freddie patted the blond’s shoulder, a weak bid to calm him down. “Darling, I know it’s ridiculous. But until we have some creditably, there’s not much we can do. Just grin and bear it. As usual,” he said, more to Roger than the others who seemed to have accepted their fates.

Roger rolled his eyes, shrugging off Freddie’s hand. There was so much he wanted to say. Like how he refused to be used like a ragdoll, thrown into any opportunity no matter how shitty. How getting respect was much more important than bowing to authority. How they should walk out of this management company immediately. But all that came out was

“W..w…w-ell, we s..s… well, we s..s..s.. oh for  **fucks** s..s-ake!” Roger tried and failed to say, growling towards the end when the words just refused to come out. He slammed his hands on his knees, getting up and stalking out of the room.

This is why he loathed his stutter. His brain was swarming with things to say but his tongue was stuck in what seemed like an endless seizure, jumbling things up and spitting them out all crooked and wrong. Whenever he felt  _any_ emotion too strongly, it got even worse. Unintelligible, even.

He was outside the building, leaning against the railing, hearing traffic whir past him as he pressed his palms into his eyelids, groaning. He wanted to go back inside and insult their manager, the lowlife scum he was. He wanted to yell at the other 3 for being such spineless twits. But he couldn’t. Not because it wasn’t nice. Only because his mouth would ruin the delivery, make him look pathetic. 

Not that the rest of Queen ever teased him for his stutter. They were surprisingly good with Roger about it. Never rushing him to spit it out or finishing his sentences for him. They’d sit there and wait minutes for him to get out just one word, not a single complaint or snicker. And Roger really appreciated how comfortable they made him feel in speech. It doesn’t mean he was buddy buddy with his stutter though. He might not ever get to that point.

He sighed, head sinking even lower, wondering if he could walk home from here. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the door open. He looked back to see Brian approaching him, hands wringing. 

“You’re right, Rog. That bloke will bleed us dry if we let him,” Brian said, eyes on the road before them. 

Roger blew out some air from his nose, bluntly replying, “I’m always r…r-ight,”

Brian snorted at that, gently elbowing Roger’s side, Roger batting a hand to get him to stop, still in no mood for jokes and giggles.

“I can’t verify that, but sure, sure. But uh, I’ll need help convincing the rest we deserve better. No one’s as persuasive as you,” Brian said, his gaze now on the angry drummer. Roger sneered, using one of his shoes to kick at some loose asphalt. 

“I can barely speak at the moment. Rather s…s-ave my breath,” he said. 

Brian’s face softened, a hand threatened to go on the other’s shoulder but pulling it away. He didn’t wanna lose a few digits to a shark bite. Instead he took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I can see it’s rough right now for you. I can’t pretend to understand it, but I do know you are the most heavily opinionated of the 4 of us and I hate to see you not speak your mind. Especially for something so vital,”

Roger, too, stayed quiet for some time, heavy lids fluttering as he contemplated what Brian said. He knew where his mind was, speaking it was the issue. 

He inhaled deeply and let it out with a splutter -  _goddamn Malboros_  -  before looking to Brian and shrugging. Not really a victory or defeat but Brian would take it.

♚

“You absolute overgrown s..s..s-choolboy! P…p-ig headed mule! You sucking our b..b…b-lood like a leach is over. You can kiss Queen’s ass g..g-oodbye!” Roger finished his tirade with the click of the phone back on it’s dock.

Blue eyes shining and voice returning to it’s usual soft and effeminate tone, he asked, “Was that what you all had in mind?”

The room was quiet, Brian nodding as he scratched his chin, Freddie grinning and prim and proper John pale and in need of cardiac resuscitation. Their break up with their management wasn’t really supposed to go like this, but at least now they were free, so could they complain.

Freddie gave Roger a quick and dainty round of applause before saying, “Not at all, dear! But now I have an idea for a song…”

 


End file.
